Spiderbites, Blini, and a Red Ford Pickup Truck
by Segismunda
Summary: One morning Peter Parker wakes up and accidentally destroys like 70% of the objects he touches. His parents aren't worried about the expenses, but they are about their baby boy growing up and joining the family business. Especially when all they want to do is unwind in Peter's godmothers' house in Arizona. Especially when Peter keeps making costume choices that they disapprove.
1. Chapter 1

"I think I'd better go check on Peter," said Steve to his husband over breakfast.

There was no response from Tony's side of the table. His toast was sitting unbuttered, cooling and neglected on his plate in front of him and his favorite coffee mug was untouched. He was doing something on his tablet.

"Tony," said Steve, the worry line between his eyebrows giving way to an expression of exasperation. "You haven't eaten anything. At least drink your coffee. And I'm worried about Peter?"

"I'm not hungry right now. I'm busy. There's nothing wrong with Peter. What's wrong with Peter?" Tony fired out, finally looking up from the screen.

"I wish you wouldn't be on that at breakfast. We're a family. We should spend time together. And you're being grumpy. Why don't you eat something?" Asked Steve petulantly.

Tony flipped the leather cover over the screen, slapped his tablet face down onto the table and gave his husband a bright grin. Seizing a slice of toast he began buttering it vigorously and said, "I'm sorry baby. I was just reading something interesting. Osbourne, you know him, bit strange, into science? Has the corporation thing? Not as big as Stark Industries, of course. But still. They're doing some very interesting experiments-" here he paused to take a bite out of his toast and washed it down with coffee - "on genetically modifying animals to create various resources. Biotech can be pretty cool, for an impure science. This coffee is lukewarm."

Steve quirked an eyebrow. "You should have drunk it earlier. But don't let Peter hear you talk that way about biology. You're living with a biologist and photographer and a painter. Impurity abounds."

"It certainly does sometimes!" said Tony flashing Steve his best salacious grin. "Last night, for example-"

"Tony, please," Said Steve, smiling in spite of himself. "I'm worried about Peter."

"I don't see why. He's a teenager and it's 10:30 in the morning on a Saturday. We're not gonna see him for another two hours, at least."

"He looked kind of ill yesterday, and went to bed early. His field trip must have worn him out. He was very excited for it."

"Field trip?" Asked Tony. "He probably faked it so he could sneak out to go to a party. You know how kids are."

"Wouldn't JARVIS have told us if he had left?"

"Nah, every kid deserves to climb out his window to go meet a girl occasionally. Peter lives in a skyscraper with the security levels of a mid-level prison." Tony snorted.

"Well," said Steve, raising his eyebrows and sitting back in his chair. "I'm so glad you felt able to share it with me the moment you decided on that."

"Gotta give the kid an even playing field. JARVIS, did Peter sneak out last night?" he addressed to the room at large. "And do we have any pancakes?"

JARVIS' smooth, clipped voice filled the air. "Peter did not leave his rooms all night, Sir. And pancakes can be available in just a few minutes."

"Thanks, JARVIS," responded Tony. "Hmm. Seems you were right. Now I come to think about it, I really can't see Peter sneaking out in the middle of the night. He's a good kid. He's a nerd. How did we of all people raise a nerd?"

"Well, I guess that considering that we're both nerds, it wasn't much of a stretch," smiled Steve.

"Me?!" exclaimed Tony. "I'm not a nerd! I'm a scientist! Stop grinning at me like that! Bruce- now Bruce is a nerd. I'm a genius."

"Suure, Tony, whatever you say," laughed Steve. "How old were you when you got into University?"

"Okay, maybe I'm a little bit of a nerd. But you're not a nerd. You're Captain America. And you're so-" Tony broke off, flapping his toast in the direction of Steve's body.

"Just because I have the nicest ass in the U.S. Military doesn't mean I can't be a nerd," Steve rolled his eyes. "The two things aren't mutually exclusive. Bruce, for example. You admitted he was a nerd? He has a very nice butt."

Tony put on his most serious face and leaned both elbows on the table. "Steve, I am deeply, utterly shocked and appalled that you could talk about a mutual friend like that in front of your husband. Is that the Captain America way? No, It is not."

Steve squinted at him across the table.

"Oh, all right," Tony relented. "I give up. He does have a nice butt. And I always forget that before the super serum you were just a little skinny ass kid. And adorable skinny ass kid, but still skinny ass."

Steve pointedly ignored this last remark. "Well, I'm still worried about Peter. But you're right- I'll wait a few more hours. But he's supposed to come with us tonight."

"Tonight? and thanks, JARVIS," added Tony as a plate pancakes arrived at the table via hatch door. "What's happening tonight?"

"Pepper's coming over to go over some Stark Industries business with you, and she's bringing Natasha. They'll be staying a couple weeks." Pepper was still the glue that held Stark Industries together, but she had handed the job of holding Tony Stark together off mostly to Steve. Besides, she had other priorities now. She and Natasha had a big airy house out on Arizona, all blond wood and wide windows with sweeping views of pale desert and bloody sunsets. They had a tabby cat, a wolfhound, a Lockheed Model 10 Electra airplane, and an incredibly beat-up red pickup truck. They came and stayed in Pepper's apartments at Stark Tower a few times a year.

"Why did no one tell me this?" Tony sighed, sloshing his now-almost- cool coffee around in his mug.

"I did tell you. When Pepper phoned me. And then when Natasha emailed me. And then yesterday at dinner."

"You didn't!"

"Yes, I actually did."

"Wait, how long are they staying?" said Tony, giving up.

"A week or two. They weren't specific. Pepper needs to get some stuff done with the company-"

"-Corporation."

"I don't see the difference. But I thought now would be a good time for Pepper and Nat to be around. I've got to go up to Washington for a few days, and Pepper can take care of you while Natasha can keep an eye on Peter. Those two get along like a house on fire." Said Steve, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms comfortably.

"It scares me how well they get along," said Tony. Then he added defensively, "And I don't need looking after."

Steve raised a single eyebrow. Tony rolled his eyes. Steve smirked. Tony picked up a pancake and threw it, frisbee-style, at him. It caught him on the side of the face and Steve snatched it out of the air as it bounced off. "You're so lucky it didn't have syrup on it. So, so, lucky."

"Grumpy," said Tony, shaking his head. "How're they getting here?"

"They're flying over. Natasha's taking Valentina, Pepper, American Airways." Valentina was Natasha's beloved plane, the same make as the one Amelia Earhart famously flew, and named after Valentina Tereshkova, first woman in space, and incidentally, a Russian. "Pepper says she prefers no turbulence, putting her feet up, and getting waited upon. Natasha made no comment," Steve concluded.

Tony grunted through a mouthful of pancake. "Sounds like them."

"Oh, and they invited us out to their place in Arizona after I get back from the Capital and you and Pepper are done with whatever here. I think it'd be lovely- It'd be nice for Peter to have his birthday with his godmothers, and the light out there's amazing. I could get some painting done. You could get some rest, and we could pretend to be a normal family for a bit."

"Yes. We could have some quality time. Disconnect. I'm really done with the board of directors right now. Seriously."

"Then it's settled? I'll let them know." Steve stood up and carefully pushed his chair into the table. "I've got to hit the gym and get through some paperwork. Eat up!" He planted a kiss on Tony's hairline as he went past.

Tony turned around partially and watched him make is way to the door. "Nice butt!" he called.

"Love you too," spat back Steve, not turning around, but Tony, grinning at Steve's retreating back, could hear the smile in it.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter was first aware of the thin slots of dagger-bright light slicing in through the blinds. He stayed still, his eyes slitted open, puffy and sleep-crusted, and contemplated a feeling not dissimilar to that of a red-hot icicle being rammed in through his eyes and scraped against the inside of the back of his skull.

The second thing he was aware of was the taste in his mouth. It was as if a small hairy rodent had crawled in in the night and died. His tongue felt diseased and too large for his mouth. Experimentally, he moved it against his teeth. That just made it worse. He tried parting his lips and sucking air in through his mouth, which momentarily made it better, but when he exhaled he could smell it.

The third thing he was aware of was the soreness on his neck. He lay there, face pressed into his pillow, long, lanky, knobbly body twisted up in uncomfortably warm sheets, unmoving, wondering why it hurt so much. The idea came to him that he might have a crick. He arched and rolled his head, but it was not a muscle pain. What he had just been dreaming came to him imperceptibly, but in a rush, as these things do. Campy yet terrifying vampires had chased him through improbable hollywoodesque crypts, strewn with waxy dripping candles and spiderwebs thick as the fibrous plastic fluff they sell as halloween decorations.

Spiders. It was coming back to him. The field trip, getting away from the group. The glowing lab. Little round bodies and neat legs that moved like clockwork. A sharp pain in his neck. He remembered feeling worse and worse, and coming home and falling into bed. On second thought, it had been a really bad idea not telling anyone. What if it had killed him? He imagined for a second what it would feel like for him to wake up and lie here and wonder if he was dead. People did that a lot, fiction would have you believe. Peter didn't even wake up disoriented when he woke up somewhere he'd never woke up before. He had doubts about afterlives.

It occurred to him to check if the bite had swollen, so he pulled his sleep-weak hand out of a tight knot of sleep and gingerly felt at his neck. There it was. It hurt when he poked it, but it wasn't by far unbearable. It seemed to be no bigger than a largish mosquito bite. Smaller than last night. He let his hand fall back on the bed, in front of his face. it was soft and warm-looking from sleep, printed with pink lines and folds from the sheets. He watched his fingers lazily curl and uncurl like some undersea creature for a moment, and then thought better of consciousness and rolled over, grabbing an end of sheet in both hands and hauling on it to bring it over his shoulders. It ripped with a muted scream of threads.

"What the fuck?" were the only words that sprung to mind, so he said them.


End file.
